“It was your fault for distracting me with all that talk about casual relationships. I hope you’re not about to grab some unsuspecting, innocent man from the next diner.”

“You don’t need someone innocent. You need someone experienced who can show you a good time.”

Martha managed not to swerve into the oncoming car. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I will remain alert to a suitable candidate. As you say, one never knows what opportunities life will place before you.”

Should she laugh or protest? “Well, right now I don’t need life to place a man before me, but thank you for the thought.” They were surrounded by fields, the light playing across the grass and crops. “Did Liza think you should try getting in touch with Ruth?” When Kathleen didn’t answer, Martha glanced at her. “Kathleen?”

“She doesn’t know the whole story. Only that Ruth and I were friends in college.”

“She doesn’t know that you were engaged? Or that you have letters?” Martha broke off, shocked. “None of it?”

“Liza and I don’t talk about personal things. The responsibility for that is mine.”

“Don’t feel bad about it. It’s who you are. You don’t find it easy to talk about emotional stuff. I’m sure Liza gets that.”

“I’m not sure she does. Liza has always wanted more than I felt able to give her. That’s a matter of regret for me.”

“If you can talk to me, you can talk to her.”

“Perhaps, although your delightfully unguarded nature does rather remove all barriers.”

“It’s probably different when it’s mother and daughter. I don’t talk to my mother either. Not even about neutral subjects like books. We don’t read the same thing. I like novels, and she reads magazines full of articles on how to avoid wrinkles, even though we all know that the only way to avoid wrinkles is to die before you’re thirty.”

“A sobering observation indeed.”

“My mother is nothing like you. I’m sure you could find a way to get closer to Liza. It’s never too late to do any of these things.” The traffic was lighter than it had been the day before. They drove past farms, the land stretching into the distance. “We’re stopping for lunch in a place called Devil’s Elbow. I’m going to take photographs of you and record another video so you might want to start doing your research. I think we should start a social media account for you. I’ve been wondering what to call it. It’s a shame you’re not eighty-six.”

“Why would I want to wish my life away when I have so little of it left?”

“You don’t know how much of it you have left. I mean, none of us do, do we? I could be dead tomorrow.”